3 parts boredom, 2 parts planning, 1 part luck
by Caro Iunia
Summary: When nobody is trying to destroy the Enterprise or its crew, Jon has to come up with some of his own diversions, with the aid of his two trusty sidekicks.
1. Part 1

Title: 3 parts boredom, 2 parts planning, 1 part luck

Author: Caroiunia

Categories: Attempted Humor, Romance

Pairings: R/S, M/C

Rating: **PG-13**

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related ideas are the property (read hostages) of Paramount. I'm just playing around. 

Archive: Just ask

Summary: When nobody is trying to destroy the Enterprise or its crew, Jon comes up with some of his own diversions, with the aid of his two trusty sidekicks. 

Author's Note: This idea keep on nagging me, even though I haven't watched Enterprise in ages. Some mild sexual references. Very mild. 

Jonathan Archer, captain of the star ship Enterprise, was bored. The first captain to be sent out on a mission of exploration, who had initiated countless first contacts, who had averts many diplomatic disasters, who had discovered things man never knew existed, was bored.

This was not a good thing.

He had read in some book or something that the crew follow their captain not only in their action, but in their morale. A bored captain was not good for morale.

The ship's library was exhausted of good literature. (Who's idea was it anyway to bring Shakespeare but not JK Rowling?) Movies should only be viewed on a big screen. The little display in his quarters ruined them. Porthos was tired from getting so many walks around the ship. He could tell that T'Pol was getting tired of his mindless wandering around the bridge. She had raised many eyebrows telling him so. He was getting kind of tired of the first contacts. They followed a predictable pattern: meet people, fight people, make peace or retreat.

There was nothing else to do now. They were on their course to a planet that the Vulcans had suggested might be "interesting" to Starfleet. (Was probably a desert. Or had man eating plants.) Either way, the Vulcans were probably laughing at them right now.

Just then, Hoshi entered his ready room.

"Captain, there's mail for you," she said, procuring two data chips from her box. 

"Thanks Hoshi," Jon said, trying to sound sincere to the person who had just given him a whole lot of paperwork from Starfleet.

"No problem," she said, as she left the room and began her rounds.

Jon looked at the orange chip, and then the green one. Which one should he choose first? He closed his eyes and began to murmur: "Eeeny Meeny Miny Mo…" He opened his eyes to find his index finger pointing at the orange one. He picked it up, held it in his hand as if hoping by diffusion; the information would seep into him, and then put up the green chip into the computer.

The screen briefly displayed the standard Starfleet logo before beginning.

"Ohh, darn it, how do you work these things? What do you mean it's on? Alright young man, but you better be right." Archer smiled as he saw his Aunt Mae, a feisty woman of 55 years. "Hel-lo Jon-a-than. Whaddaua mean that we can speak normally?" She said to the figure to her side. She sighed. "Hello Jon. Remember me? Your auntie Mae? Remember coming to my house during the summers when you were a little boy? I recall that you used to love running around naked," Jon hoped that Hoshi hadn't seen any of this, "and that you used to eat all of the ice cream! Ahh, those were the days. But enough of that. Jon, honey, your Auntie Susan wasn't able to come today, she's busy tossin' her cookies. So she wanted me to just send you a message saying that you won't have your inheritance just yet.

"Well, since Susie obviously hasn't been doing this, I will get you up to speed on the latest gossip. You know Margaret and Thomas? Well, they…" Jon listened intently to the rather long message, sometimes laughing at his Aunt and sometimes at her victims. She was a true matchmaker in her community. 

The messaged ended too soon. He found himself quite jovial for the first time in days. 

That's when he realised how to spend his idle hours. People of the Enterprise, beware.

But first, he needed his two trusty sidekicks. He set off to his quarters and then towards engineering. 

…

"That is one of the stupidest ideas I've ever heard!" exclaimed the chief engineer. "Ya mean that ya took me away from my modifications 'cause ya want to stir up some gossip!"

The captain looked sheepishly down at the ground. This was not the response he had expected. Jon expected his best friend to join in his evil schemes. But no, Trip had to be reasonable. But there was still a chance.

"Did you say modifications Trip? I thought that I had said you couldn't make those modifications until we docked at the next starport…"

"Well, um, ya see, well…" Charles Tucker III stumbled over his words, "I thought that since we hadn't, well, ya know…"

"It's OK. But you see, sometimes it doesn't hurt to bend the rules, if its for the good of the crew."

Trip saw this viewpoint as a revelation, and stood quiet.

"OK, fine. I'll help ya. But what exactly are we going to do?"

"Haven't figured that out yet," the Achilles heel of the captain's plan was showing, "Rather hoping that you could help me with that." 

Trip smiled at his friend while searching his mind for ideas. 

"Haven't a clue about how to start this. Hey, how about I go up to the bridge and check on the glitch in Hoshi's panel and then we head to lunch."

Jonathan Archer sighed and accepted the plan. At least they had some sort of plan. 

…

For more spell binding antics, keep on reading!


	2. Part 2

… 

Malcolm Reed knew something wasn't quiet right on the ship. He was paid to notice these things. That's what made him such a good armoury officer. That, and being bloody brilliant at blowing things up as well. 

The ship hadn't had a hostile encounter for almost a month now. In his opinion, there should be a scoreboard over the view screen. "Haven't almost been killed for ____ hours." Quite funny really. He must remember to tell that one to someone at dinner. 

In fact, because of the lull, he had started to unwind. But then, that niggle which settled in his stomach, had started again. 

He walked up to one of the panels in his armoury and called up the ship's status. Everything looked alright. Remembering that his American counterpart, the illustrious. Commander Charles Tucker III, who was incapable of speaking the Queen's English, had been modifying systems around engineering, he called up the engineering vitals. But everything looked, well, perfect. If he hadn't known better, he would of though that he himself had been taking care of engineering. _Maybe he got bored playing with the ship's wires_, Mr. Reed concluded. 

Since he was finished with cleaning all of the torpedoes, he decided to go to the bridge and find something to do there. Namely, T'Pol bum watching. And sometimes, he would get a treat when the simply divine Hoshi would have to lean over to pick something up… Ahhh, life on a starship can be tough sometimes.

…

Trip banged his fist down onto Hoshi's panel, startling the Japanese communications officer. 

"Damn this, wait. What the? I think that did it…" he said, looking astonished at the panel.

"Everything alright?" Jon asked the two officers staring at the communications panel. 

"It looks that way, sir," said Hoshi Sato, still slightly shocked at the persuasive power that Trip's violence at her station. "Thank you very much," she said, checking that all of the functions still worked properly.

"Just a sec, Hosh. I wanna run a diagnostic on it, just to be safe," Trip continued, stopping her hands with his own. She smiled one of her gentle smiles at him, and let him do his work. She leaned back and folded her arms, waiting patiently.

The bridge turned around at the hiss of the door, revealing a very embarrassed Malcolm Reed.

Hoshi looked at him, and smiled a secretive smile which turned embarrassed. His cheeks tinged lightly at she turned back towards the panel. Malcolm reciprocated her movement, walked quickly over to his station and got to work. _Brilliant! Now everyone probably knows that you fancy her, _Malcolm said to himself

"Captain, Sub-commander, Commander, Ensign, Ensign." He nodded to each officer in turn, trying to dispel the memory of his smile betraying him. _They probably didn't notice_, Malcolm tried to convince himself.

Little did he realise in his musings the silent exchange between the engineer in and the Captain, permanently sealing his own and Hoshi's fates.

… 

"Trip, could you join me in my ready room? I need to discuss that engineering plan that needed some other modification with you," said Jon in his officious voice, desperately trying to keep a straight face. 

Trip understood the hidden meaning of the message and replied, "Just a moment." He turned to Hoshi, "If the diagnostic gives you any alerts, comm. me. Otherwise, you just continue working."

"Sure. Thanks Commander," Hoshi replied, and sat back waiting for the diagnostic to finish.

Trip looked around the bridge quickly, and hurried into the ready room before he started to burst out laughing.

"Shh! They might here you!" warned Jon beneath his own chuckles. "You know that Hoshi could hear that white alien thing when the sensors couldn't pick them up. She might be able to hear us!"

"So does that mean we are going to lunch? 'Cause I was kinda hopin' that you would make Chef make some of that Italian lasagne. Com'on? Please?" Trip begged.

"Sure thing, Trip," Jon gratuitously replied. He walked over o the comm and gave Chef the order. Then he turned around to face the slumping Trip who was sitting in his chair. "It'll take a while. Let's take a walk."

Trip followed Jon out the door to the captain's quarters. There, Porthos joined them and they set out for a short tour of the Enterprise. Funnily, Porthos seemed to love sniffing the monotone halls, even though there was no green grass nearby. 

"So…" Trip started speaking, but cautiously checked the hall before them to make sure that no unsuspecting crewman heard them. "What exactly are we going to do with them? I mean, what can we do?"

"I was thinking something subtle. Like beginning with telling them that the other one likes them."

"But Malcolm would become too nervous. I mean, he's a stuffy Brit. He'll run back to his quarters and read up on the frat chapter!"

"Good point. How about you tell Travis that you think Hoshi likes Malcolm? You know, say the 'but don't tell him I told you!' liners. Travis is sure to pass it on."

Trip looked at Jon in a surprised manner. _I told Travis that I like Katie in maintenance! If I could only keep my trap shut…_

"He told me about Lizzie and Phlox, you know. When Liz **liked** Phlox. Apparently they don't talk anymore. Trip, are you ok? You look kinda pale all of a sudden."

"I just… Never mind. Just some things I have to do in engineering," Trip reassured Jon, as they continued walking.

A crewman appeared, nodding as she passed her superior officers. Waiting until she was out of earshot, Jon and Trip resumed their conversation.

"I know! Lock them into some room together!" Trip exclaimed, stopping to face Jon.

"But Hoshi would try to talk her way out of it and Malcolm would probably kill both of them trying to blast his way out..."

They continued walking.

"What if they contracted some sort of illness and had to be quarantined together! I mean, we could say that it was some sort of dormant space bug. And we could get Phlox in on it as well. He would love it. It would be like an experiment for him." To Jon's slightly unsure face, he continued, "We wouldn't let Phlox give them anything, of course."

"I like it. But its kinda boring. What happens afterwards?"

"I think that," said Trip, his creation running away with him, "We get our trusty Travis to start spreading rumours that something happened. Then we get them to sit together at meals, sit next to each other during movies." Trip paused, stopping in the corridor again. "Are ya sure that we should be doing this?"

"Cold feet? Trip, I know that Malcolm likes checking T'Pol's 'bum' out. But he doesn't really like her like that." Jon said those words trying to convince Trip as well as himself. "He likes reading. Hoshi likes reading. He likes, um, learning. Well, so does Hoshi. They get along together. They complement each other. And if nothing else, this will make them better friends.

"Besides, if there isn't something to distract me soon, I think boredom will drive me out of the airlock."

…

The plot thickens…

Keep on reading!


	3. Part 3

…

            The niggle was back. It reappeared after the Commander and the Captain had disappeared into the ready room. Malcolm knew that something was amiss, and his perectionist nature drove him to find out what.

            "Sub-commander, do you read anything on your monitors?" Malcolm asked T'Pol, who was annoyed for being interrupted.

            "I can detect many things, Lieutenant. However, all readings are nominal. Is there anything specific you want me to look for?" she passively asked. But her words had an edge to them, telling Malcolm to mind his own business.

            "No, I think it's alright," he said. He frowned at his displays, which were refusing to tell him what was wrong. In normal circumstances, he would have been happy to see everything in working order. 

            "Ensign Sato," Malcolm continued, "I take it everything is alright for you as well?"

            "Haven't heard anything other than cosmic background noise since the system came back online, Lieutenant," Hoshi replied. She knew Malcolm's moods enough to realise that something was amiss. Apparently, so did T'Pol.

            "Lieutenant, if you feel that something may be wrong, I remind you that you are obliged to report," she duly informed Malcolm.

            "No, Sub-commander. I just wanted to double check. The safety of the ship is after all my responsibility." _OK, now give her a slight smile. See! She believed you._

            Turning back to his station, he started to punch out a message to a certain ensign. He knew that something was about. And Hoshi, well, among many of her wonderful qualities, she had a tendency to be very sensitive to these things. She was like a canary in a mine. She could sing like one too, as he had discovered when he was in the Jefferies tubes doing some routine repair. _Stop imagining Ensign Sato in the shower!_ He further reprimanded himself silently with a few curses, and sent his message.

            Then, he left to go back to his armoury.

            Hoshi read the message as it instantaneously appeared.

"Meet me in the armoury at 1900, after Alpha shift finishes for 'target practice'. – Reed"

Hoshi felt like she had been enlisted into a secret organisation. She deleted the message and tried not to think about it for the rest of her shift.

…

            The corridor curved further, leading Malcolm to the edges of the ship. He was just walking, looking for something to do until he would meet Hoshi. He had already taken a shower. His boots, as always, were immaculate. His hair was perfect, at least in his opinion. He had groomed himself partly as a distraction and partly for Hoshi.

            His stomach gave a loud growl, interrupting his thoughts. He took another corridor.

            By checking off things on his mental list of what could be wrong, he calmed his nerves slightly. But he still automatically hid when he heard voices and footsteps approaching, an automatic but unwanted response. He crouched behind the bulkhead until he could hear the voices more clearly.

            "…Then I was thinkin' that we might…" _It's only the Commander, and probably the Captain, _he thought, slightly embarrassed at himself. He was about the get up and continue on his way when he heard a few fleeting words from Jon.

            "…Well, setting Hoshi up with him isn't going to be easy…" 

Malcolm decided to try to find out more. A slight tinge of jealousy surfaced. By now, he could hear them clearly.

            "I'll go talk to Phlox. See how he can help us."

            "Sure. But make sure that he doesn't propose any of his experiments. Last time…"

            "I remember Trip. Too bad we didn't get any photos of that though!"

            "Remember, I know how to disable this ship!"

            "Don't worry Trip. I'll never tell a soul about it. No-one except you, me and Phlox knows about that. Back to Hoshi and co."

            "Roses. Leave roses at her station. Or better yet, have them beamed over there directly from hydroponics. That way she'll never be able to actually trace us.

            "You do that later. Not to soon. We have to be patient…"

            Their voices drifted off. Malcolm didn't follow them, he didn't want to. He felt as if he had just heard something gobsmacking. He decided that it there was only one thing he could do: protect Hoshi from them. She would help him if roles were reversed. He would tell her, as a friend, and as someone who wanted to be more than a friend. That last part he tried to deny, but he feared that circumstance might get the better of him. 

…

Poor Malcolm. Poor poor Malcolm. 


	4. Part 4

…

            Malcolm waited in the Armoury for Hoshi, pretending to be busy looking at a PADD. But his azure eyes drifted continually towards the door. Finally, it opened.

            Hoshi, still dressed in her uniform despite being after the end of her shift, walked in.

            "OK, what is this about?" she whispered to him, looking around to make sure that they were alone. 

Malcolm noticed and replied, "The current shift is in engineering working on increasing the… nevermind. I will try to explain this whole thing to you. But to tell the truth, I am bit confused myself."

Hoshi nodded, and sat down on one of the large grey boxes. 

"One of the qualities which makes me an excellent security officer is my ability to sense when something is wrong. That, along with being paranoid and enjoying explosions." His humour fell flat on its face. 

Malcolm kept on talking, regardless, "And lately, despite the quiet nature of these past weeks, something has started bothering me. At first, I thought that it might be that we had been infiltrated. However, it seems that that is not the case. I found out that…" 

The door opened again. _I should have locked it! But that would have attracted attention_, Malcolm thought, before quickly grabbing a practice pistol for Hoshi. The crewman nodded at the two officers and went over to a panel to work. 

Hoshi walked over to Malcolm's other side, so that he cold see the crewman more clearly. But she tripped on some sort of tool on the floor, tumbling into Malcolm's arms. He fell onto his back. 

"Are you alright?" she immediately asked. The crewman rushed over, and offered to get help, but Malcolm insisted that he was fine. Who wouldn't be fine with the object of any man's desires? And Hoshi had yet to move from on top of him. 

"Are you alright?" he asked in return. She smiled, before rolling off of him and started to laugh.

            "I'm sorry," she said to Malcolm's bemused face. 

            "I don't understand," Malcolm replied, starting to become concerned that Hoshi might just have gone mad. 

            "It's just that, well, you looked so funny. As if you were happily asleep dreaming for a second."

            Malcolm got up, before pulling Hoshi up. Their hand lingered together longer than they should have.

            "Sir, are you sure you shouldn't go to Phlox?" asked the crewman, who was still standing next to them.

            "We're fine," said Hoshi and Malcolm in unison. 

Malcolm resumed, trying to act normal, "You still need to improve your accuracy rating. I thought it was fine, but it turns out that some of the data I had given the computer was incorrect. I am sorry, Ensign, but we will just have to go back to the cargo bay and do some more work on your skills." 

Hoshi took his hint and walked out with him. But before they had left, the comm. chirped.

"Phlox to Sato."

Malcolm and Hoshi looked over at the crewman, but he gave them a look of innocence. 

Hoshi walked over to the comm. and answered the call.

"Sato here."

"Ahh, Ensign. It appears that you may have come in contact with a dormant pathogen. It may have become active recently, and could then spread to anyone you have touched. Please report to Sickbay immediately."

"I should come with you, in that case," said Malcolm. They walked out of the armoury to sickbay.

The crewman started laughing loudly. He was going to have some great gossip for tonight's poker game.

…

Gossip can spread like wildfire…


	5. Part 5

…

            Hoshi and Malcolm walked into Sickbay to find the entire senior staff and Phlox. Phlox was scanning Travis when he turned around to greet his latest arrivals. Hoshi and Malcolm didn't see Trip's and Jon's glances.

            "Ahh, Ensign, Lieutenant. Good. I have already scanned the rest of crew whom might have become infected. It appears that they are free from this pathogen. I am sorry that I did not find this sooner."

            "It's alright Phlox," Hoshi assured him with a smile.

            "Now Ensign, you will need to be quarantined. I do not think that you need to be in decontamination, since it was ineffective in removing this pathogen in the first place. The captain has agreed to confine you to a cargo bay."

            "What about my quarters?" Hoshi asked, unhappy about having to be stuck in the cargo bay.

            "They will need to be decontaminated. Now, If you would kindly step into the decontamination room until the cargo bay has been set up…"  He led Hoshi into the blue room and shut the door behind her.

            "And now for you Lieutenant. Have you had any recent physical contact with Ms. Sato?"

            "We were about to have target practice, and, she, she fell. I naturally caught her," Malcolm said as nonchalantly as he could. But his cheeks were beginning to tinge. A fact not unnoticed by the charming engineer.

            "Ahh. Don't worry, Lieutenant. There is no reason to be nervous about this…"

            "I'm not nervous," Malcolm coolly replied.

            "But your breathing and heart rate have both increased. Let me see here."  Phlox scanned his patient as Malcolm tried to lower his heart rate. _Think about Aunt Grenadine's kisses. Think about_… His thoughts were interrupted by Phlox.

            "I regret to inform you that you have also contracted the pathogen," Phlox calmly informed Malcolm. "I am afraid that you will also need to be quarantined." Phlox turned around to face the captain.

            "Captain, although the Lieutenant's quarters aren't infected, I suggest that he should also be quarantined with Ensign Sato, in order to reduce the areas were this pathogen may be."

            "Do whatever you need to do," Archer nodded. He saw his armoury officer walk, untold, to the decon room and let himself in. When the door hissed closed, Trip couldn't help but chuckle.

            "Aww, Captain. I can't believe we are actually doing this!" Trip told his friend, who was stifling a laugh.

            Travis looked at the two quizzingly, but without any answer in response. But he was beginning to understand what was happening in the backgrounds. As tempting as the prospect of match making, he had to get a message to Hoshi and Malcolm. Already, a plan was forming in his head. Excusing himself, he left the sickbay and hurried to his room.

…

            "It seems that I have also become infected," Malcolm said as he sat down next to Hoshi.

            "I'm sorry," she softly said, not lifting her eyes from the floor.

            "It's not your fault." Malcolm lifted her chin and turned her face so that she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

            "So what's wrong Malcolm? This has to be as safe as the armoury."

            Malcolm looked over at the door before beginning. "There is something happening on this ship. I know it. But I happened to overhear…"

            "Shh…" Hoshi silenced him, pointing to the door. Sure enough, Phlox's voice was heard on the other side.

            "Are you both alright in there?" he jovially asked, as if nothing was wrong. A bit too jovial, Malcolm thought.

            "Quite," replied Malcolm. "When will we get out of here?"

            "You will be moved to your quarantine within an hour. I doubt very much that you will have to remain isolated for much more than half a week."

            "Half a week!" Hoshi cried out, feeling the cabin fever setting in.

            "I have no doubts that you will be idle during this time, since you will both have temporary stations set up, or so Commander Tucker has informed me."

            Both Malcolm and Hoshi were shocked at the duration of the imprisonment. But Malcolm was also relived, since it meant that that the Captain and Trip could not set Hoshi up with anyone. 

            Phlox left them alone and Hoshi signalled that it was alright to continue speaking.

            "It doesn't matter now," Malcolm stated and closed his eyes.

            "Humour me."

            "Well, the captain, Jon, and Trip, were going to set you and someone else up. Just thought I'd warn you."

            Hoshi was taken aback. _They wanted to do what?_ She was not sure if she was supposed to be flattered, angry or confused. 

            They sat in silence, Hoshi muddled and Malcolm relaxing. And so they remained until they were moved to the cargo bay.

…

            Phlox and several other crewmen arrived dressed in their EVA suits, shocking the occupants of decon.

            "Do you really think that those are necessary?" asked Malcolm, indicating their bulky suits which looked ridiculous in the small sickbay.

            "We cannot risk further contamination.  We will need you two to don these as well." Two crewmen came forth, each carrying an EVA suit. Phlox motioned for them to dress, which they obediently did. 

            Finally, Hoshi asked the question to Phlox which they had both been wondering. 

            "How dangerous is this thing?" she asked Phlox. Phlox looked at her for a moment, as if she had asked a ridiculous question. Hoshi even thought she heard him chuckle softly.

            "I have already devised a cure. But I am afraid that your time in quarantine will be no shorter for that. You will still need to spend a half week in quarantine. I believe that Mr. Tucker has in fact moved several of your belongings to your new home."

            They all exited the sickbay and walked towards the cargo bay, not meeting a single person on this normally busy route. A fact which did not escape the astute Mr. Reed.

"Where is everyone?" he asked the crewman escorting him. Malcolm searched his head: the man's name was Henson, Alfred Henson. Even on a small ship, not everyone knew each other.

            "We have evacuated this area of the ship, sir. A clean-up team is following us, making sure that no-one else gets contaminated, sir." Alfred Henson was one of the few other British crew members on the ship. 

Sometimes Malcolm wished that they all met. But invariably, when he had seen the other British crewmembers meet, arguments over football, what Trip called soccer, erupted. Or it would be about the sovereignty of Scotland or Wales. Or Northern Ireland. Even 200 years later, Britain was divided.

            Malcolm answered Alfred's comment with a nod. They continued to clunk down the halls.

            They arrived at the large doors of the cargo bay doors.

            "Welcome home," the other crewman said to Hoshi, who sighed deeply at the announcement. She did not look pleased from Malcolm's viewpoint. In fact, she seemed rather displeased at the idea of being stuck in the cargo bay for half a week. _With me, Malcolm solemnly added. _

            The doors opened to reveal Trip standing in his EVA suit.

            "Welcome to Chez Trip; a little place I like to call your new home." Trip grinned as he stood in the middle of the grey room. Two beds were visible. A small sectioned had been corned off, to create a small bathroom. There were simple screens in another corner, presumably to give the occupants some privacy.

            Malcolm and Hoshi were left alone in the silent space.

            Three days and three nights began.

…

Hoshi locked into a room with a really hot Brit!

OMG!


	6. Part 6

…

            Hoshi bounced up and down on her bed, testing its softness. She released her hair from its pony-tail before flopping down on it.

            "At least they didn't give us those bunks for visiting Vulcans," she sighed. 

            "I thought that they just made us give up our rooms?" Malcolm absent-mindedly replied. She laughed lightly at him. Malcolm was tracing the outlines of the walls, making sure that the room was properly sealed. 

            He turned to her, and laughed slightly as well.

            "I am simply worried that we could infect other members of the crew, Ensign," he replied.

            "Malcolm, drop the formalities. We have to spend a half a week together," Hoshi told him. She saw Malcolm try to massage a spot on his back, a spot obviously giving him a lot of pain. 

            She rose from her bed and walked over to him. 

            "Want some help with that?" she offered, extending her hands to meet his tense shoulders. She started to gently massage him, creating small circles with her fingers. She could feel his broad muscles at first seize, but soon slump under the power of her fingers.

            She had always been good at massages. Poor Malcolm, he was putty in her hands.

            _So the tough armoury officer has a weak spot for a massage, did he?_ Hoshi thought. Apparently, Malcolm heard her.

            "Umm, thank you." He walked away from her to his bed, where he sat down. She walked over to him and continued massaging.

            "You have a knot," she explained, digging deeper with his hands.

            "Hoshi, you know I could knock you to the floor if I wanted to?" he lightly threatened.

            "Ahh, well, Mr. Reed. I have recently been reliably informed that I have a very good roundhouse kick," Hoshi teased back.

            "Whoever said that must have been under the influence," Malcolm teased back.

            Hoshi stopped and put her hands on her hips. Malcolm turned around, and found her pouting.

            "Don't stop," he calmly muttered, and turned his back to her once again.

            "In that case, I take it I have an extremely good round-house kick."

            Malcolm didn't protest as she continued her massage.

…

            The five crewmen sat leisurely around the poker table, gossiping while the sixth player went to the kitchen to get snacks.

            "…And when I came in, let's just ay that something was definitely going on. They were talking about 'target practice'." He accented the quotation marks. "Then they were practically on top of each other. I mean, she 'slipped'. How lame is that? And he just happened to catch her. It was totally obvious."

            "Commander Tucker said, in confidence of course," all of the crewmen nodded affirming, "He said that they always go to movie night on the same days. And they are always not there on the same days." Every man drew their own conclusion from this.

            And of course, these conclusions were all public before the next shift.

…

            Travis was no computer expert, but he knew how to create an encrypted signal within the ship.

            "Hey, Hoshi, Malcolm, can you hear me?" he whispered to viewscreen, as the image of cargo appeared on the screen in his quarters. He hadn't been expecting to see Hoshi and Malcolm sparring, both apparently enjoying it. They were both startled, and Malcolm was annoyed, walked up to the screen. 

            _Maybe the Captain and Trip were doing the right thing,_ Travis thought.

            "How can we help you, Ensign?" Malcolm asked in his I'm-your-superior-officer-so-this-better-be-good tone.

            "I thought you first of all might like to know that, umm…"

            "What's going on Travis?" Hoshi appeared in Travis's viewscreen.

            "I think that the captain and Trip are trying to set you up. I even doubt that you have any disease. I think Phlox is in on it. You know, this would be some sort of experiment for him."

            Malcolm and Hoshi looked incredulously at him for a moment.

            Part detective, Malcolm asked, "What has led you to that conclusion?"

            "Something is up between them. They have been giving each other glances, like they know something we don't know. And Trip has been spreading rumours."

            "What sort of rumours?" Malcolm questioned.

            "That he wouldn't be surprised if you two liked each other; that you two always skip movie night on the same nights..." Travis felt slightly embarrassed saying all of this. But it was public knowledge outside of the cargo bay. 

            "Travis, keep us updated. We must make a plan. We have three days to come up with a counter strike. And thank you, Travis. I take it this transmission is encrypted?"

            Travis nodded.

            "Good. Contact us tomorrow again. You better go, just in case anyone gets the idea to contact us." Malcolm looked truly appreciative. As if a great mystery had been lifted. Travis almost decided to ask Malcolm about this, but was interrupted by his fellow Ensign.

            "Travis, could you see if there could be an environmental "malfunction"? Make engineering really cold. _Really_ cold." Hoshi's face lit up as she spoke, before Malcolm stopped her.

            "What are you planning?" he asked. As armoury officer, he intended to be part of all tactical movements.

            "We need a distraction. If Trip thinks his engines are in danger, he won't stop until he gets everything back to status quo."

            "But what if it turns out to be a good thing? I mean a cold engineering letting them do some sort of maintenance."

            "If I hadn't been interrupted," she shot a mocking glance towards Malcolm, "I could've told you about the second part of the plan. About an hour later, after freezing engineering, I want you too sabotage the oven and stove in the kitchen."

            The two men were beginning to see the brilliance in her plan. They nodded as she continued.

…

            Jon and Trip walked briskly towards the kitchen. They had just been informed the all electrical apparatuses for cooking had broken down due to a power surge. Chef was apparently enraged and the crew were angry for their missing dinners. A lucky member of the kitchen crew had been able to escape and convey the message. 

            They strode into the mess to find, literally a mess. Three crewmembers were quibbling over a trove of wires which had been extracted from various disembowelled objects. Other crewmembers were trying to steal sandwiches and other cold foodstuffs which were rapidly being torn apart in the struggles.

            Trip chuckled lightly at the ridiculousness of the scene in front of them. Then he realised that if he didn't act soon, they would disembowel his ship.

            "Hey, cut that out, would ya?" He dismissed the three self-appointed engineers with a wave of his hand and moved forward to inspect the carnage. 

            Jon was still standing aghast at his crew's behaviour. 

            "Jon, this is gonna take a while. Hope you weren't hungry," Trip said looking down at the muddle of wires. Jon walked over and did the only thing he could for his friend: save the pecan pie.

…


	7. Part 7

I've actually almost finished this whole fic. Believe it or not. (people who know me will go with the latter). But I wanted more R/S moments (there just aren't enough in the actual series).  So here is the next instalment.

…

Malcolm looked intently at his work as he sat on his bed; the chairs Trip had provided were to uncomfortable, even for an indestructible man like Malcolm. His schematics for an improved torpedo system were riveting. If implemented, they could improve efficiency of the torpedoes by 56.78% while increasing damage by impact by 34.41%. Malcolm felt smug. He was a genius.

He looked over his work, to see if he could further improve the system.

That's when he spotted it. He was supposed to **add** the logarithms, not **divide** them. When he changed the numbers, he saw disaster. 

His system would blow up the Enterprise, not the enemy.

Bugger. He had just wasted five hours on worthless calculations. "Bugger, bugger, bugger," he muttered under his breath.

He was supposed to be one of the best and brightest. But he couldn't even deal with logarithms. He continued to chant bugger quietly.

"How about **yIH**?" Hoshi said, not stealing her eyes away from her own PADD. 

"What?" Malcolm said, surprised that she was there. But then he remembered where they where.

"**yIH**," Hoshi said again, still not looking at him.

"Yjihg?" asked Malcolm, even more confused. He was beginning to worry.

"**yIH** . I just thought you wanted some variation," she replied with a smile, and looked into his eyes.

"yaih?"

"**yIH**," Hoshi said. She enunciated clearly and waited for Malcolm to try again.

"Bugger," he replied definitely, but with a grin. "What language is that?" he asked.

"I don't know," Hoshi said. "But it's some sort of small furry animal. It's supposed to be repulsive." She tried to decipher more of the language.

"By most standard, small furry animals are considered adorable. Not repulsive," said Malcolm.

"No, its described as quite repulsive, I assure you," Hoshi said.

"I do not doubt your abilities as a linguist, Hoshi. I'm just saying that..."

"It's Klingon," Hoshi interjected.

"It's what? How can a fury animal be a Klingon? A Klingon is definitely not a cuddly animal. Repulsive, perhaps. But not…"

Hoshi grabbed her pillow and promptly threw it at him. She missed.

"…And I see we still need to work on your shot," he said. 

"The translation is Klingon!"

"For a communications officer, you are not very good at communicating. I mean, first you were saying that Klingons were small fury animals…" Malcolm loved doing this, winding her up. He loved to see her get annoyed, frustrated, confused. Not seriously of course. But like this, well, she was simply adorable. If he was more debonair, he would have simply told her "you look beautiful when you are angry," and kissed her. Like in a movie.

Then something hit his head.

"And for being a tactical officer, you're not too good at dodging shots," Hoshi said, as her carefully aimed pillow collided with Malcolm's head.

"Touché," he said, as he picked the pillow and returned it. Ever the perfectionist, Malcolm's volley hit Hoshi in the stomach.

"You know what this means?" Hoshi said, as she gathered her few pillows around her.

"I thought you were the interpreter," Malcolm said, trying to anticipate Hoshi's next move.

"This - is – war," Hoshi said, crouching behind her barrage of blankets and pillows. She could see how Malcolm's eyes slowly narrow, preparing to fight. Part of her was scared that Malcolm would get too competitive. But a bigger part of her was feeling the rush of the game.

She hurtled two pillows in rapid succession at Malcolm, barely hitting him.

"Miss Sato, it would be unwise to waste all of your ammunition so quickly," he said from behind his own fortress. 

"Ahh, says the coward," she retorted. Malcolm peeked from behind his pillows, and fired his own volley. 

But Hoshi rushed forward and jumped on top of him, pinning him down.

"You know what they say? The best defence, is a good offence."

"I will have to start giving you less self defence sessions, Miss Sato," Malcolm grunted from under Hoshi's firm grip. Personally he didn't mind being under the control of a certain beautiful Asian linguist. But being pinned down was starting to hurt his pride.

Before Hoshi realised it, she was under Malcolm's firm grip. Not that she minded of course. Personally, she had hoped that many a target practices would end this way.

"If you wanted to be on top Malcolm, why didn't you just say so?" she said. 

At first Malcolm smiled at her. Hoshi thought that she could even see some lust in his eyes mirroring her own. But then the killjoy Lieutenant Malcolm all-prim-and-proper Reed flashed into his eyes.

"I don't think that this is appropriate,"Malcolm said, rising up before helping Hoshi up.

"Oh for heaven's sake. It was only a joke Malcolm," Hoshi exasperated turning to make him face her. But Malcolm refused to look her in the eyes.

"Ensign, we must return to our work immediately," Malcolm said, getting his PADDs together. Seeing as there was no point but to leave him alone, Hoshi did the same.

…


	8. Part 8

…

Travis felt quite proud of himself. Sure, he was never first in line to go on away missions and meet alien babes. And sure, he was taken for granted. But he had his moments of genius.

Like this one.

One little unimportant ensign had managed to bring the entire ship to its knees. And there was a perfect phrase for it: controlled pandemonium. Or was it pandeminium? He never was that good in English…

"Hey Travis. Is it too late to schedule dinner?" asked Crewman Cartwright. Travis whipped out his PADD and entered his security code. Up came a complex table filled with names, rooms and food.

"If you are lucky, Rostov should be free," Travis replied. He smiled at the young crewman.

"Is, well, you know… Hess cooking anything?" Cartwright asked, discreetly flashing some credits in his hand.

"Hmm… Let me see…There is one more spot… Yup, you got lucky," Travis said. Cartwright extended his hand to shake, and Travis felt the credits slip into his hand.

"Thanks Travis. If you ever need anything from down in my part of the ship, you just say the word," Cartwright said. He walked out of the turbo lift into one of Enterprise many corridors.

Travis was definitely proud of himself. Who would've thought that a lowly ensign could achieve powers only a drug lord usually had? Who would have thought that Travis would organise a system where those with hotplates cooked for those who didn't? And all for a small fee, of course. 

This is why he had helped Hoshi and Malcolm. Sure, he sympathised with them. Actually, he didn't sympathise that much. A few days of free vacation all because the captain thought that they made a cute couple. But no, they just couldn't accept that. They had to get all revengeful. Well, at least Travis was getting something out of all this. 

He really had to stop looking so smug if he was going to face the captain.

He felt the turbo lift slow to a stop, then shake slightly as it aligned itself. The doors glided open and he strode out. His trip was interrupted three times by people wanting a hot dinner. Finally, he reached the mess hall.

Travis's system had done much to alleviate the situation, but it was still chaos in the kitchen.

"Captain? The reports you wanted." Travis handed the Captain two PADDs, before standing back and waiting to be dismissed.

"All right Mr. Mayweather. Tell the bridge crew not to get comfortable in my chair, 'cause we'll be done soon," Archer joked. Travis laughed with him briefly, before being dismissed.

He strode out of the doors on his way back to his quarters. He, unlike the rest of the crew, was happy to eat cold sandwiches with whatever he could find. But his scheme was surprisingly successful. Maybe he should arrange for the repairs to take longer, so that he could enjoy his 15-minutes of fame.

And per Travis's wishes, the lights went out.

…

Hoshi and Malcolm looked apprehensively at the lights, waiting for them to go back on.

"Bloody hell," muttered Malcolm. "Of all times to be invaded." He hurried over to the comm. panel.

"Lieutenant Reed to the Bridge."

There was a moment of uneasy silence as he waited for a response. 

He repeated, "Lieutenant Reed to the Bridge."

The panel crackled back, "Yeah, this is the Bridge, Lieutenant. Everything alright?

"No, everything is not 'alright'. Why are the lights no working?"

There was a pause, as the bridge crew double checked what he was telling them. Then, the lights brightened to their normal luminosity.

"Sorry about that, sir. First the kitchen started malfunctioning, and then the lights started acting up. Won't happen again, sir," the crewmen said. Malcolm felt like adding "It blood well won't," but refrained. He was actually happy; Hoshi's little plan was working.

"Reed out." Malcolm turned to Hoshi, who was giggling at her mischief.

"Well, I hope you've had your fun," he told her.

"Fun? Hey, those guys tried to mess with us. Now we strike back," she said defiantly, with her hands on her hips. She tried to keep a straight face, but giggles surfaced. "Can you imagine Trip and the Captain running around?"

Malcolm could imagine the Captain and Trip running around trying to fix objects which were not even broken. He suppressed a chuckle at the thought. But Hoshi's revenge was too crude. It needed more finesse.

"A child could break something. We…"

"Are you calling me a child, Malcolm?" Hoshi crossed her arms. The nerve of Malcolm to call her a child! "Do you have a better idea, **sir**?" she asked in anticipation of Malcolm ceding that he was wrong.

To her shock, he announced, "As a matter of fact, I do."

… 


	9. Part 9

…

            "So what is your master plan?" Hoshi said, with an edge to her voice. 

            Malcolm motioned for her to sit down, as if they were student and teacher. She remained standing. Malcolm started regardless.

            "Revenge can come in many forms. There is the classical sabotage. This accomplishes nothing other than pandemonium. Then there is reciprocal revenge. Where the accused gets "a taste of their own medicine." Amusing, but clichéd. And in our current position, we would be unable to enjoy it." Malcolm's tone grew to that of a lecturer. He was beginning to enjoy himself. 

            He mimicked a lawyer's mannerisms. "I would now like to refer to the example of the hackers of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, or MIT." He tossed Hoshi a PADD. "Not hackers in the computer sense. There were pranksters. But their pranks were characterised by their originality, as well as the fact that they cause no permanent damage."

            "I've heard of them," Hoshi said, putting the PADD down. "Still, what's the plan?"

            "Nothing grand. Just small things." Malcolm tossed Hoshi another PADD.

            Hoshi smiled. And reminded herself never to get on Malcolm's black list.

…

            "How are the repairs coming, Trip?" Jon asked. Trip had been down in the mess hall the entire day. Strangely, the crew seemed largely unaffected by the lack of food.

            "Almost done. Looking at it, I'm not even sure what was wrong in the first place. I mean, all the parts work. Just not together. Probably just some fuse."

            "Good. I was just checking on Malcolm and Hoshi. They're fine," he replied to Trip's interrupted interjection, "They've been reading, working and sleeping. You know how they like reading. And how Malcolm never stops working."

            "Poor Hoshi. I bet Malcolm isn't such great company. I'm starting to wonder if this was such a good idea," Trip said.

            "At worst, they'll become better friends," Jon said. 

            "As long as nothing else goes wrong, I'll be happy."

            Just then, music began to play over across the ship. More precisely, the Beatle's "Paperback writer".

            Jon and Trip exchanged looks and headed to the bridge.

…

            "That should do it, Captain," Trip said, as the music ended. It had taken two Beatles songs, three by Elvis, and one by someone called Eminem for the ship to fall back into silence. 

            "What was the problem?"

            "Some software glitch. Probably fallout from the kitchen catastrophe."

            "Captain," started T'Pol, "there appears to be an environmental irregularity in Commander Tucker's cabin."

            Jon was expecting this in some strange way. He was beginning to wonder if some strange alien life form was toying with them

            "Trip," he said, and then they left for the next disaster area.

            They missed Travis's knowing smirk. 

…

            "OK, you're good," said Hoshi to Malcolm as the music stopped. "Although I think your music choice could have been better."

            "If you think you can do better…"

            "Wait and see."

            "Wait, they've discovered Trip's surprise."

… 

            Jon and Trip clunked forward through the corridors, feeling weirdly out of place. 

            "Captain, are these really necessary? T'Pol said that the air was fine."

            "Trip, you can never be too careful in these situations."

            They came to Trip's simple door, and looked at each other in anticipation. Trip punched in his access code three times, as well as he could manage with his clumsy gloves. Finally, the door opened.

            Neither of them had expected the sight in front of them. They had been invaded by white slimy aliens, large lobed aliens, wisps, but never this.

            "So, Captain, what does the Starfleet handbook say about dealing with foam invasions?"

            In front of them the room was filled with foam. White, bubbly foam, originating from Trip's bathroom.

            Jon was the first to step in. But his steps faltered, and he slipped right into the pile of forth. 

            "Trip? A little help please?"

            He could hear Trip's chuckles, and felt himself laughing. Were it not for the EVA suit, he could be completely buried in foam. He could feel Trip's now magnetised boots clunk against the floor as the approached. And then he heard the steps pause, and a definite thud against the ground.

            "Trip?"

            "Sorry… Um, Cap? Some help please? I can't move my feet."

            Jon hauled himself up, and carefully approached the rift in the landscape of foam. He first undid the magnetisation of Trip's boots, before helping him up. They steadied each other and tried to move towards the open doorway, which was quickly being filled up by curious crewmen. Some with cameras. 

            "Trip? Wasn't this part of the ship locked down?" Jon said as a camera flashed in his face.

            "Umm, it was… I thought." Trip started to shout at the crewmen to leave, only to be muffled by the helmet of his suit.

            "Excuse me sir, I can't understand what you are trying to say," said one the spectators, before taking another shoot of the Commander and Captain falling over. 

            "I think he was saying that he wanted us to get T'Pol," a crewman giggled.

            Several people left, wanting to able to capture the Sub-Commander's face when they told her about this.

…

            "We should stop now."

            "What do you mean?"

            "We simply cannot continue doing this."

            "But it's such a nice distraction. Remember, we have to entertain ourselves for the next day and a half. Besides, you are so good at this, Malcolm." Hoshi knew how to work Malcolm through his pride. But her flawless technique faltered now.

            "It's becoming ridiculous. And a waste of resources. What if we were attacked?" Malcolm explained. His sense of duty was returning, much to Hoshi's dismay.

            "What are we going to do instead? Play scrabble. Because I'm going to beat you at any game which involves words."

            Malcolm moved away from the small display screen from which they had been able to view the effects of their schemes. He picked up the practice phaser and threw it to Hoshi.

            "In that case, Ensign, we could work on improving your targeting score."

            When he turned his back to activate the target, he missed Hoshi's mocking imitation of his orders. Thankfully for Hoshi.

…


	10. Part 10

…

            Jon, Trip, and T'Pol sat in bemused silence as they ate their meal. Meal wasn't the appropriate word, it was more like small piles of brownish looking slabs. Also known as Starfleet standard rations cooked by Trip. Trip had been enlisted to prepare the three senior officer's meals while the final reparations to the kitchen were being made. Trip was sure that T'Pol would be noting this meal in her report. Something along the lines of "Commander Tucker should not be allowed near foodstuff during the course of their preparation, unless the intended effect upon serving is death."

            "Has the cause of these disturbances been ascertained yet?" T'Pol politely asked, as she deliberately sliced her ration into precise slivers. She didn't want to eat anymore of it than she needed in order to present the illusion of eating, and she was genuinely interested what sort of error could cause the image of the two, foam-covered officers appear on every screen in the ship. 

            Trip, who had been playing with his portion, looked up at the Captain and they both exchanged glances.

            "We've got a pool going down in engineering. Right now, ghosts are in the lead." Trip smiled at T'Pol, his smile a mocking challenge for her to reply.

            "That would be a highly illogical probability, since there is no such thing as ghosts."

            "Well, T'Pol, I suppose that you have a 'logical' explanation for all of this," said Trip. Jon was still silent, simply wondering how tonight's dinner conversation would unfold.

            "I do not," admitted T'Pol. She dabbed the edges of her mouth with her napkin, even though she hadn't eaten any.

            "T'Pol," Jon said so that she wouldn't leave prematurely, "How were things on the bridge today?"

            T'Pol looked at him and was fully aware of what he was doing. But she entertained his question regardless.

            "Aside from the multiple disturbances which have occurred during the day," she said while looking accusingly at Trip, "nothing unexpected has occurred. However, Lieutenant Reed's and Ensign Sato's replacements have not been as efficient as their successors. This has caused the bridge crew's efficiency rating to fall three percent. Their expedient return would be advisory."

            Jon and Trip once again exchanged looks. If they had done this in front of the crew, their relationship might have been misunderstood. 

            This additional look was not unnoticed by T'Pol. She decided to pursue the subject. On scientific grounds, she admonished to herself.

            "Furthermore, Ensign Sato's phaser ratings are still not satisfactory. I suggest that she is scheduled more lessons with Mr. Reed." She saw Trip's smile grow. "And since Mr. Reed's work more regularly involves cooperation with different species, I suggest that Miss Sato instruct Mr. Reed in some key phrases pertaining his work." This was, of course, pure conjecture, but Trip's smile doubled. 

            "So you're saying that they need to spend time together, alone?" Trip asked.

            "I think what T'Pol is saying is that their quarantine together is an excellent time to expand their abilities," Jon swiftly interjected so that Trip wouldn't give their plan away. He should have picked a better partner in crime.

            "Yes, Captain, that was what I was referring to." T'Pol rose to leave. Trip and Jon followed suit. "Good evening," she said. She would be writing a very interesting log entry tonight.

            Trip couldn't stop grinning as he and Jon got up to leave.

            As they too parted, Jon prayed that the kitchen would be fully fixed and that Chef would be making his meal tomorrow. Or that by divine intervention, Trip would learn to cook. But he knew that it was more likely that T'Pol would smile than Trip cook anything edible that wasn't stir fired or "Southern style."

            Porthos, however, enjoyed Trip's meals very much.

…

Why doesn't Porthos get more screen time? 


	11. Part 11

…

            It felt strange going to bed, despite having sleep near each other in the catwalk. They navigated around each other, like taking as short time as possible in the bathroom not to inconvenience the other.

            They now both sat in their beds reading. Malcolm glanced over towards Hoshi, who was wearing a fitted tank top and loose cotton draw-string pants. Her bunny slippers were positioned next to her bed. Her slippers seemed to have a mischievous smile on them. They could probably star in a horror movie. _Attack of the Bunny Slippers. He looked back at his book, but didn't much feel like reading. __Great Expectations wasn't living up to his expectations, and he found himself skimming passages. _

            He put his book down, and began his yoga stretches. During the catwalk, he hadn't been able to do these, since he would never have been able to live through Trip's taunts. 

            Hoshi watched Malcolm walk over to the space in front of her bed, since the foot of his bed was next to some large crates, which would probably never be opened during the course of the journey. Personally, she thought that Starfleet sent crates with each ship just to make the cargo bays look full. 

She watched intently as he bent over to touch the ground with his hands, his gym pants stretching over certain areas of his firm body. 

            She wasn't going to be able to concentrate with him doing this. She turned out her light and tried to find a comfortable position. But the bed wasn't her bed, and she tossed around. Finally, she rested on her back and stared up at the ceiling. 

            But with her acute hearing, she could hear his soft steps and the fabric of his clothes stretch. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the sundown in Brazil. But all she could imagine was a very fit Malcolm doing stretches. She tried to focus on Brazil again. Instead, she saw in her imagination a tanned Malcolm doing stretches on a beach in Brazil.

            Finally, the torturing soft sounds ended and she heard Malcolm too go to bed. Just like her, he tossed and turned.

            "They aren't the same, are they?" she turned over and asked. She could barely make out his features in the dark, but she could hear him.

            Malcolm, however, could see her. Her curves showed through the thin blanket, and he could just make out her gentle breathing.

            "They certainly aren't," was his meagre answer.

            "Travis should be here telling his ghost stories," said Hoshi.

            "I'd rather he wasn't, with his snoring."

            This earned a little chuckle from Hoshi.

            "You're right. Me of all people should know that."

            "You should." There was a brief pause. "How good is your hearing?" Malcolm asked in a by-the-way manner. 

            "I don't know. I can hear you breathing… I can just make out your heartbeat… I can hear the engines…" They both fell silent as Hoshi listened to the Enterprise and Malcolm's heartbeat. They were both almost in perfect synchronisation. She giggled.

            "What is so amusing?" Malcolm asked.

            "Nothing," she enigmatically replied.

            "Hoshi, you can't laugh at a man in perfect darkness and then expect to get away with not telling him why."

            "It's your heartbeat and the ship."

            "What about them?" Malcolm's heart rate increased.

            "They are, were, in sync."

            "Ahh, well." Malcolm started explaining, "The Enterprise and I have a very good relationship."

            "You mean that she's been cheating on Trip with you!" Hoshi said with feigning horror. 

            "With Trip away so often, the poor girl was all alone."

            "So you're the hero?"

            "What can a man do?" Malcolm shrugged.

            "Who said chivalry is dead?" 

            They both laughed. Soon, the laughter died down and they both simply lay in their beds.

            "This is nice," said Hoshi.

            Malcolm wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer that. He instead sighed and prayed that this wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

            "It's like a sleepover," Hoshi continued. 

            Malcolm felt obliged to add, "I'm sorry Hoshi. I didn't realise that you had a traumatic childhood."

            Hoshi looked at him confused for a moment. "What?"

            "It must have been hard going to sleepovers as a little girl only to find out that you are infected by deadly diseases and then locked into a small room with a boy who likes explosions."

            "Oh it was." Hoshi pretended to be serious. "Although, I would hardly call him a boy."

            Malcolm was pleased at the way the conversation was going.

            "I would call him an infant."

            Malcolm scoffed, "An infant?"

            "Always getting himself into trouble. Always playing with guns." She resisted adding, "needs a hug sometimes."

            "If I'm an infant, will you obey my every command?" Malcolm teased and threatened to imitate a child's wail.

            "Don't I already?" Hoshi asked. Her comment came out wrong and only reminded them both of their difference in ranks.

            Hoshi shivered in the cool air. The ship seemed colder with the lights turned down.

            "Are you cold?" Malcolm asked with concern.

            Hoshi could think of many ways he could warm her up, but resisted. She cursed herself for bringing up the difference in ranks.

            "A little," was her meek reply.

            "Do you want another blanket?" Malcolm asked. He got out of his bed and starting going through the containers, mumbling "should be here somewhere."

            "It's OK," Hoshi insisted. She held her breath so that she wouldn't shiver again.

            "I'm afraid that there are no more blankets. You can have mine if you would like," he offered. He was a gentlemen, he told himself as he got ready to face a cold night.

            "Malcolm, I couldn't. Then you would be cold."

            "I will not take no for an answer," Malcolm said, tossing his blanket over to her bed and then laying down in his own. It was rather cold.

            "Malcolm, take it back. I'm fine," Hoshi said, tossing the blanket back. Malcolm returned the blanket once more and headed over to the comm. panel. If he hadn't been Hoshi's superior, and a bloody fool, he would have offered to "share" blankets. Instead he called the bridge and asked them to check the temperature.

            "The cargo bay is 14C, sir."

            "Would you please raise it then, crewman," Malcolm said with annoyance.

"Sorry sir. The heating is busted all over the ship. Commander Tucker had call on all of Engineering to help him fix it."

"Could you then please send some extra blankets down here?"

"Sorry sir. All extra blankets have either been taken or are missing."

"Missing? For heaven sakes. It's not like they grew bloody legs and walked off."

"They are gone sir. I recommend you two put on a few extra layers. Your cargo bay is among the last things to be fixed."

"Let me speak to the Captain," Malcolm balked. He looked over at Hoshi accusingly, asking her if this was her prank, but she shook her head.

"Um, the Captain is sleeping sir. And the repair list is fixed sir. The Commander said so."

"Fine." Malcolm hit the button and ended the conversation. He looked apologetic at Hoshi.

_Now or never you fool, he thought and summoned all of his courage._

"There is only one thing to do then," he said, moving towards her.

"What?" she asked, worried that he might steal her blankets.

"Share," he said, and crawled into her bed next to her. "To share body heat, that is," he quickly added.

He met no protest from a very happy Hoshi. They spooned, and were soon asleep.

…

            "You…" Trip continued to mutter unmentionable words. They thought they were cute, didn't they? Their little pranks. And it was funny. But cutting out the heat? Now he would have to deal with the complaining of his Engineering crew and the pestering of the rest of the crew for heat. 

            He was wearing three layers of flannel, but was still cold. 

            "Hey Travis," he said as he saw the helmsman with several blankets walking down the corridor. 

            "Hey Trip. How are you?" Travis asked. Trip appreciated someone finally asking about him, not the heat.

            "I'm a bit cold. But I'm almost finished here. Wouldn't mind sharing?" he said, pointing towards the blankets.

            "Umm, they are for… Liz. They are for Liz. Liz Cutler," he said. 

            "Oh," Trip said a bit disappointed. But his cabin should be warm by now.

            "Yeah, I better hurry. She really wanted them," Travis said. He rushed of down the corridor.

            Trip looked back at the reparation. There was no way that Hoshi and Malcolm could have done this. Then he saw a small trickle of water. _Damn it, leaks_. Someone must have hacked the system for a bigger ration of warm water.

            He felt slightly ashamed at blaming Hoshi and Malcolm. He decided to check up on them before his shift started in the morning. Knowing Malcolm, at least he would be up then.

            Trip hurried to his cabin, stopping by the kitchen to pick up some pecan pie. He had strategically hidden some when he discovered the extend of the damage there. Which was just as well, since they were running low on real pecans. He had to remind the captain about that later.

…

            That was close. Too close. Travis needed to be more careful. He had been food king for nine glorious hours. But when Trip had managed to fix the kitchen, Travis's illustrious reign had ended. And Travis liked power.

            So an offhand comment by a crewman translated into his new, if you excuse the word choice, enterprise. 

            He was the blanket king. He had "collected" 60% of the extra blankets onboard. And then "loaned" them to crewmembers. Mostly for favours, naturally. 

            But Travis was now a powerful man.

            "Travis!" he heard. In shock, he realised who it was.

            Liz Cutler.

            "Hey… Liz…" Travis said slowly. He started praying that she hadn't heard him and Trip.

            "So, are those for me?" she asked.

            Travis gave her the blankets without a choice.

            "Um, yeah. I figured that you might be cold so I thought you could use these."

            "Ahh, Travis. That's so sweet." Liz hugged Travis.

            Travis was beginning to see the perks of magnanimosity.

            "Oh, but Travis! Now you don't have any blankets. How about you come over to my cabin? We can share them."

            _Definite perks, Travis thought as Liz led them to her cabin._

…

I'm not going to be getting much up for a while. But be assured, this story will be finished by July 1.

And a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. You're words have meant a lot. So this last instalment is dedicated to all of you.


	12. Part 12

.  
The air was once again comfortably warm. Hoshi lay sprawled across the bed with the blankets in a heap on the floor. She lay with an enigmatic smile, which only one with access to her dreams could solve.  
Malcolm had been watching her for some time trying to figure out what she had been dreaming. During the night, he had woken and been unable to fall asleep again due to Hoshi's arm randomly flinging itself across the bed. So he had begun work on various Armoury things. Hoshi's constant sighing and sometimes giggles kept on sidetracking him. So he decided to just watched her. His officers could take care of themselves.  
He checked the clock: 10:00. He should wake Hoshi. She probably had something to translate. Or something. What did she actually do all day? Just sit and translate?  
He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and shook her gently.  
"Hoshi," he said softly.  
Hoshi jumped up from the bed. In the process, her arms flung against Malcolm's face.  
"Ow."  
Hoshi looked in horror at what she had done.  
"Oh Malcolm, I'm so sorry," she said while coming closer to Malcolm, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. She crawled closer across the bed and leaned over to look closer to the part of the face which she had hit. She leaned closer, bringing Malcolm's mouth close to her own.  
She followed her intuition and kissed him. He leaned forward into the kiss.  
Malcolm lips, and asked her, "Trying to kiss me better?"  
She smirked at him and pushed against him with another kiss. She pushed a bit too hard, she felt the kiss destroyed and Malcolm fell backwards off the bed.  
"uhff," Malcolm exhaled as he hit the ground.  
"Are you alright?" Hoshi asked as she hurried to his side.  
"The wind was knocked out off me, but I'm alright," Malcolm insisted.  
  
"Are you sure? I can get Phlox."  
"And here I was thinking that you would kiss me better," Malcolm said in a disappointed tone.  
He rose to kiss her again, but she pulled away.  
"What about the fraternization regulations?" she asked. She couldn't even look at his face.  
"You're right," Malcolm said and rose. "I'm sorry, Ensign. Please excuse me for my behaviour." At least no one could blame him for being uptight.  
Hoshi sat down in shame on the bed.  
Malcolm started walking over to his PADDs. He turned abruptly.  
"After you asked me if I wanted enchiladas," Hoshi couldn't help but smile, "And I rudely said no, I started thinking about those rules. And Hoshi, you have to understand, I'm a man of rules. They give me something to hold onto.  
"But if there is anyone I'd give up those rules for, it's you."  
He waited a moment, and then walked into the bathroom for a cold shower.  
The sound of the water drowned out Hoshi's small whisper.  
"I love you too, Malcolm Reed." . 


	13. Part 13

.  
Travis came into the mess hall as a fallen king. His reign was over.  
Still, more people than usual said hello to him, and offered him to sit with them. He kindly said no to all except Liz.  
"Hey," he said, sitting down.  
"Hey yourself," she replied, toying with her pasta.  
"Are you alright?" he asked. Liz was usually always talkative, and Travis felt himself concerned. Especially since they had spent the better part of last night talking about everything and nothings.  
"I'm fine," she said looking down at her uneaten plate of food.  
"Liz." Travis started, before Liz interrupted him.  
"It's that stupid Vulcan!" she hissed so that no-one else could hear them.  
"T'Pol? What has she done?"  
"She was looking over my stuff. And she said that it was unsatisfactory and lowered by damn efficiency rating." Even quieter she asked, "Starfleet doesn't look at those, do they?"  
"I don't know. I've never been worried about those before," Travis admitted. "Don't worry. T'Pol just expects a lot from people."  
"Yeah, I know. But she still doesn't have to say that my work is crap."  
"Actually," Travis had no clue if he was lying or not, "a criticism where a Vulcan expects more from a person is one of the highest forms of compliment. It means that they think you are capable of much more. And do you really think that a Vulcan would give a direct compliment to us primitive humans?"  
Liz laughed gently.  
"I suppose you're right. I never thought of it that way. Oh god, this is exactly like what Phlox was saying about judging people based on your own culture, not theirs."  
Travis started realising that his kind words might not have been so helpful after all. Looking around, he struggled to find an escape route. But no good ones were available.  
"I better go. I have to finish a report for T'Pol. I'll see you later." Travis hastily said, grabbing his tray and walking away.  
Liz started making a mental list at things she needed to work on. Stop judging people based on your own culture Stop scaring guys away  
First Phlox, now Travis. I should have some sort of medal. .  
"Is everything running smoothly, Trip?"  
"Smoother than a baby's butt, Captain. What brings you down to engineering?" Trip asked. He finished the command in the computer and told it to execute.  
"I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright. No more heating failures? No more attacks of foam?" Jon asked.  
"Nope. And I've been taking some lessons from Malcolm. Next time anything happens, the computer is automatically going to track crew movement and give names." Trip looked quite pleased at himself.  
"You did all of that before lunch?" Jon asked unbelieving. Trip is good. Real good. I should talk to Starfleet about a commendation or something, Jon thought.  
"Me and Malcolm had been working on something similar before. It was just a matter of changing and adding some parameters."  
Malcolm and Hoshi, Jon remembered.  
"I have to go. Something I forgot to do," Jon called out as he left Engineering.  
Trip just shrugged and continued working. .  
"Good to see you Hoshi. Where's Malcolm?" Jon asked the small screen in front of him.  
"He's in the shower," Hoshi said with an uncomfortable look that Jon didn't catch.  
"OK. You guys have everything you need?"  
"Yes Captain."  
"Oh, and we've been getting your orders and work. Nice work translating that Klingon transmission."  
Hoshi blushed modestly.  
Jon continued, "Tell Malcolm that T'Pol misses him. And you for that matter. She was complaining the other night about how your efficiency ratings were much higher than your replacements."  
Hoshi wondered how she should tell Malcolm that. On one hand he would be pleased to have a high rating. On the other, he would be upset at not training his successor well enough.  
"I'll pass it on, Captain."  
"How are you guys doing?" Jon asked, trying to figure out what had surpassed between the two jailed officers.  
"Fine." Hoshi could tell that the Captain wanted more. "We've been working and sleeping a lot. A bit of reading."  
Jon realised that Hoshi wouldn't tell him anything else and signed off. . 


	14. Part 14

.  
Malcolm knew he couldn't stay in the shower forever. Yet he didn't want to leave. The great, undaunted Malcolm Reed was afraid of a communications officer who didn't like travelling in "tin-cans."  
Against his better conscience, he decided to get out. He rationalised this by spending an unwarranted time coming his hair, brushing his teeth and shaving. And anything else he could think of.  
When he had exhausted his stay in the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. A perfectly groomed Malcolm stared back at him.  
He wanted to smash the mirror. He wanted to let his shield down. He wanted people to figure out who he was; a secret which he had kept so closely guarded all these years so well.  
Why couldn't he just be normal? Have a normal life with a normal family and a normal job. Not that he wasn't passionate about his work, but telling people that your vocation was to blow things up raised a few human and Vulcan eyebrows. And he knew that no family was perfect. Yet he yearned for the chance to stop struggling constantly against the Fates.  
He reminded himself that life is that struggle, and without it, humans would not truly live. He was sounding like the Captain.  
He looked immaculate, if he did say so himself.  
He stepped out of the small bathroom and faced Hoshi.  
Sometimes struggles are difficult. But it's the victory which justifies it.  
And with that, he kissed her. .  
Trip scratched Porthos behind the ears as he waited to go with Jon to sickbay. Porthos had eaten too much cheese, and wasn't feeling too well.  
"Ya know what Porthos? They aren't feeding you right. You should eat fried catfish. I mean, hey, it's the perfect meal for a dog like you. It's got meat and cats. What more could you ask for?" Trip asked Porthos, whom merely responded with a cocked head.  
"I'll ask Chef to fix you some. It's not quite like the real thing, but its good enough," Trip promised Porthos. Porthos proceeded to whine softly.  
"Are you saying that Chef can't cook Trip? Because." Jon mocked.  
"Sorry. I guess I didn't hear you come in," said Trip. Trip stood up and Porthos started wagging his tail at the prospect of a walk.  
Trip started walking out the door, but stopped since Jon was still standing still.  
"Umm. Trip, could you do me a favour?" Jon asked.  
"Yeah, sure. What do you need?"  
"Could you take Porthos to Phlox? I just got a message from Starfleet headquarters. It seems as if Admiral Forrester has requested to speak to me in five minutes."  
Trip understood that this was serious. He also understood that Jon wanted to be spared from Phlox's lecture on Porthos's eating habits. Ahh, what an officer must endure for his Captain.  
"Sure thing," Trip replied and led Porthos out into the corridor.  
Jon could faintly hear Trip promise Porthos catfish and made a mental note to remind Chef to limit Trip's access to the catfish.  
He sat down at his desk. When he had first come aboard the Enterprise, he had wanted to bring his mahogany desk from home with him. It was perfect, with drawers for everything you had. He wanted to bring it on a personal note, since the desk had been his fathers. Also, he would have liked to have hung the picture of HMS Enterprise above it. Some sort of poetic justice. It was a good solid desk, unlike these IKEA replicas. He didn't mean any offence to the people who had designed his quarters, whom had insisted that mahogany wouldn't "match" the rest of his room. This desk was also a good, solid desk. However, it was no match against his at home.  
Jon glanced up at the clock. He had spent four full minutes thinking about desks. He made another mental note to get a hobby.  
The comm. chirped.  
"This is Archer."  
"Sir, incoming transmission from Starfleet."  
"Patch it through to my quarters."  
The image of an old man appeared on Jon's computer. Jon tried to think of something flattering to say, like "you look younger" or "you've lost weight", neither of which were true.  
"Jon? Good to see you."  
"You too sir"  
The Admiral turned very grave.  
"Now Jon, you know that I've always trusted you?"  
Jon rattled his brain to no avail, trying to figure out what Forrester was talking about.  
"Yes."  
"And that I know you would never abuse your position?"  
Jon remembered that he had taken all of the medium-roast Columbian coffee, leaving none for the crew. Surely Starfleet would never get hung up on that. Would they?  
"Well, I'm not sure how to take this latest news."  
Jon was going to jump in and explain how the other types of coffee just failed to wake him up in the morning, when a crack of smile appeared on Forrester's face.  
"I'm sorry Jon. I couldn't help but wind you up." Forrester turned serious again. "Jon, you know that Starfleet has been reconsidering some of its rules?"  
Jon knew a lot about this. He had submitted a 50-page report on changes to the current policies.  
"The psychiatrists here seem to think that the Enterprise is a prime candidate to test run some of these new rules." Translation: the Enterprise was going to become a guinea pig. Jon wondered what they had done wrong to merit this.  
"With all due respect, sir. The Enterprise doesn't have the resources to do this."  
"Hear me out." Forrester held up a PADD to read. "'Due to the emotional maturity displayed by the crew of the Enterprise, it is the recommendation of the Psychiatric division of Starfleet that the new fraternization rules be trailed there.'"  
Jon was flabbergasted.  
Forrester finished with saying, "This doesn't count for you. You're still the Captain. Captains can't be running around chasing young ensigns in skirts. Oh, a new uniform with skirts for the women is being tried on the Missouri. Forrester out"  
Jon started wondering about how he could keep Trip from going overboard with these new rules.  
Then Jon had an idea. He would announce it to the crew at Valentines Day, which was only a couple of weeks away. And in the mean while, he could laugh at the crewmen that snuck around.  
Who said the Captian didn't have a sense of humour? Perhaps not a very funny one, but one nonetheless. . 


	15. Part 15

.  
"Malcolm?" Hoshi softly asked Malcolm as briefly stopped kissing.  
"Yes?" he murmured.  
"What about the rules?"  
"I'll go to that Captain and explain that if there are any problems, I might become so frustrated that I scramble the 'stun' and 'kill' settings on his phaser."  
Hoshi laughed softly. She would have continued their kisses if the comm. didn't chirp.  
"Reed here."  
"Hey Malcolm. Thought I might warn you two to start packing up. We'll be coming in soon," Trip said on the other end of the line.  
"How soon?" Malcolm asked with his eyes fixated at Hoshi.  
"About 10 minutes. The Captain wants the cargo bay clean for a rendezvous with a supply ship tomorrow. And Phlox here assures me that you guys are clean. How's it been taking those pills everyday?"  
"It has been . fine, Commander. Reed out."  
Hoshi and Malcolm had initially been assigned pills to take everyday. Phlox had considered giving them gel to apply as well, but his bat had sidetracked him. Hoshi and Malcolm had been eternally grateful, because despite the gel's antiseptic properties, it left a sticky blue layer behind which was close to impossible to wash out.  
"I guess we should pack," Hoshi said. She pulled out from under her bed a small bag with the Starfleet logo on it and started putting her things in. She pressed more and more things in, unable to fill it with everything. It always amazed her how it was possible to get more into a bag the first time, but the second time you could hardly fit anything. It was as if the items swelled from the air.  
Malcolm, however, had no problems fitting his things into his bag. In fact, as Hoshi tried pressing harder on the items in her bag, he calmly zipped his up.  
"Let me have those," said Malcolm and took several PADDs sticking out of her bag.  
"No, it's fine," Hoshi persisted. As if she was going to let Malcolm take her stuff. She was a modern woman, albeit a modern woman who couldn't pack.  
"I insist." Malcolm took the PADDs back.  
"No, give me them!" she said yanking them out his hands.  
"This is insubordination!"  
"Oh, don't you start pulling ranks on me Malcolm!"  
"Let me take them."  
"No!"  
Just as Malcolm was going to pull Hoshi in for another kiss, a careful tactical move designed to distract her, the doors to the cargo bay opened. There stood Trip, the Captain, Phlox and several engineers.  
"I guess cabin fever reaching breaking point," Trip joked as he looked at them both grabbing at the PADDs.  
Malcolm was startled.  
"Captain, Commander, Doctor, crewmen." He nodded to each in turn.  
"I am delighted to inform you both that this virus is gone from your systems. All items in this room will be dosed to eradicate all traces," Phlox informed them both.  
Hoshi and Malcolm put the PADDs down, since the PADDs would be stuck in their own quarantine.  
"What about our clothes," asked Hoshi, referring to the clothes that they were wearing.  
Malcolm wouldn't have minded stripping, it had only been he and Hoshi there. Damn other people.  
Phlox ran a scanner across both of their bodies.  
"They appear to be acceptable. However, once we reach sickbay to run some more tests, I will need you both to change. Crewman Cutler has been so kind as to get several items of clothing for both of you."  
Hoshi sighed, and both were led away to sickbay. .  
"Oh shoot!" Liz said in the middle of Travis's and her dinner.  
"What?" Travis asked.  
"I was supposed to get some clothes for Hoshi and Malcolm. They'll be in sickbay expecting me any minute. I am so sorry Travis, I'm going to have to cut this short." She pulled out the power chord for the hotplate and got up to leave.  
"I'll come with you," Travis offered.  
"Oh that's sweet Travis, but you can finish eating."  
"My father always taught me to help a woman in need," Travis replied.  
Liz accepted his help and they hurried away to get the clothes and return Hoshi's stolen hotplate. Liz wasn't about to do anything that could be reported to the head of security now that Hoshi had spent a couple of days with him. .  
Malcolm and Hoshi entered sickbay with an enterage comprising of the Captain, Phlox and two crewmen.  
"Are we clean now?" Hoshi asked Phlox.  
"I should think so," Phlox said.  
Hoshi went forward to one of the bio-beds where some of her clothes were lying. She saw Liz and Travis standing in the back, grinning, as she lifted up her clothes. She realised that only Liz and Travis would bring her blue jeans and a green woolly jumper. Then she saw Malcolm's clothes and thank God that Liz had chosen them.  
Malcolm was staring at a white t-shirt and tight jeans.  
Hoshi mouthed a quick thank you to Liz.  
"Now, Lieutenant, if you would be so kind as to proceed to the decontamination chamber while I run some additional tests on Ensign Sato," Phlox instructed.  
Malcolm took his clothes without a word and went to the decon chamber to change.  
Hoshi sat on the bed as Phlox started his tests.  
"How was spending a couple of days with Malcolm?" Jon asked. He hadn't forgotten his plan.  
"It was fine," Hoshi answered. She could tell that the Captain wanted more. "We did a lot of reading, and I got a chance to finish that translation you wanted."  
Jon realised that Hoshi wasn't going to tell him anything personal in front of a room full of people. Then again, she probably wouldn't tell him anything personal since he was the Captain. Being a Captain was hard work. Then again, you got first dibs on female alien visitors.  
Before she knew it, Hoshi's scans were done and she and Malcolm switched places, much to Hoshi's disappointment. She would happily have spent more time with Malcolm, especially when he was wearing that white t- shirt.  
Jon tried asking the same question to Malcolm, but all Malcolm answered was a report on what modifications Malcolm wanted to make to the torpedo system.  
Jon acknowledged to himself that he perhaps wasn't the best person to find out what had happened.  
Maybe T'Pol could do one of those mind-meld thingys. Or Trip could talk to them. .  
"You're joking," Malcolm said to Travis.  
"No I'm not. Starfleet really has gotten rid of the fraternization rules."  
The wheels in Malcolm's head started turning. He and Hoshi had decided to not persue their relationship because of professionalism, and had blamed their kisses on cabin fever.  
But now. Malcolm tried to remember where Hoshi was supposed to be.  
"Malcolm? You OK? You zoomed out on me," Travis said.  
Malcolm looked at him for a moment.  
"I have to go," Malcolm replied, picking up his tray and leaving.  
Travis didn't mind. Because when the door opened to let Malcolm out, Liz walked in. .  
"You're joking," Hoshi said.  
Malcolm kissed her.  
"Maybe you aren't joking." . 


	16. Part 16

.  
A week. One full week. And not a word about what had happened. Trip hadn't expected the full story. But still.  
Drastic times call for drastic measures.  
Trip knew that Hoshi had a habit of talking with Porthos when she took him for a walk. And this time, he was counting on it.  
He fitted the small collar around Porthos's neck just as Hoshi came in to get him.  
"What's that?" Hoshi asked, completely unaware.  
"Oh, it's a new tracking system. So that if he escapes, we can find him." It was true. But the collar had some extra modifications.  
Hoshi took the bait and led Porthos for his walk.  
Trip hurried back to his quarters and put on the earphones. He quickly called the Captain to make sure that he was still in his ready room. Jon would call this unethical. But his method of "they'll tell us eventually" was just plain boring. So Trip had whipped us this listening system.  
He heard Hoshi start speaking.  
"Come here, Porthos. Let's go this way."  
Trip called up Porthos's position on his screen. They could be heading anywhere.  
"We just have to visit Phlox. I have a message for him."  
He watched as the small dot went into sickbay.  
"Here you go," Hoshi said.  
"Thank you, Ensign," Phlox answered. "Have you continued taking the pills?" "Yes. But I've hardly felt sick. Are you sure that this thing was real?"  
"Quite sure. It is a rare virus, but can be potent."  
Trip had thought that the virus was a lie.  
"Thank you, Phlox."  
"Good night Ensign."  
"Where do you want to now Porthos? The Captain isn't going to be happy if I don't exhaust you."  
Trip leaned back in his chair and reached for a beer. Why couldn't he relax as he eaves dropped. Trip turned around as he thought he heard a door open. Porthos's footsteps increased, and the door closed again. He checked his screen and saw that Porthos was now in hydroponics. "What are you doing here boy?" Malcolm said. "Is that a new collar?" Trip winced. Malcolm was smart, and just might recognise the listener on Porthos's new collar. "What's Trip been doing with you? Let's take a look at this." Thankfully, the door opened again. "There you are!" said Hoshi. Trip wasn't sure if she was speaking to Malcolm or Porthos. "Pretty flower for a beautiful woman," Malcolm said. "Well, let me say thank you, then." Trip took off the headphones quickly and turned off his monitors. Then he started laughing. Trip considered for a moment whether he should tell Jon. After all, it was his plan. But then the full extortion value of this evidence made Trip reconsider. The things he could Malcolm do to keep this secret. Two crewmen walked by Trip's cabin quickly as the menacing laughter increased. .  
Jon considered his plan a failure. On the bridge there was no sign that anything had happened between Hoshi and Malcolm. Oh well. It had been a good plan. And Phlox's little virus had turned out to be real. What do you know.  
Now, Jon moved onto his next plan. With Starfleet's new fraternisation rules, setting people up just wasn't as fun anymore. No, something new and better needed to be done. Like a swimming pool where the crew could play water polo.  
Jon pulled up the schematics for the ship, and realised that they could actually make one. If only that one pipe burst.  
Lying at Jon's feet was Porthos, who groaned. Hadn't his master done enough? He had brought Hoshi and Malcolm together, which meant that his walks were always cut short. The poor humans. Everyone knew since it was a small ship. Dogs, in contrast, were always respectful of each other's relationships. Primitive humans. It was amazing that his master's plan had even worked. Some things are a combination of boredom, planning and just plain dumb luck. And now Travis had started liking Liz, something only he and T'Pol knew, on account of the ridiculous amounts of pheromones.  
In fact, Porthos could hardly go onto the bridge anymore on account of those stinking pheromones. He didn't understand how T'Pol could endure it. Must be that nasal suppressant stuff. Porthos made a mental note, something which he had learned from his master, to "get lost" in T'Pol's quarters next time. And just happen to get to her nasal suppressant.  
What can a dog do when love is in the air? . 


End file.
